Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
When I Say I Love You
When I say I love you I mean more than those three words mean it's more than expressing the action of care and fond towards you that I feel. When I say I love you I mean trust, promise, why. I mean trust because I blindly always see the good when there is bad. Because it seems that near you I trust myself—to not break and fall apart but it hurts even more to be near you. I say promise because I feel like a child scared to lose what they love most. Promise because I want to make sure all the plans and words we have made and said don't parish in thin air like they never were said. Promise because I need you to be constantly loving me. I say why because I don't understand how you could love me. Why love a broken soul, why make me feel special and then wither away your words, why choose me? I wonder why it will be me always. I sometimes feel like love wasn't meant for me but yet it's the only thing that has kept me from feeling complete sorrow. So maybe when I say I love you I mean more than those three words telling you how much I adore you I mean please don't hurt me. I mean please don't leave me. I truly mean you are the one. Loving someone is putting them first and I plead guilty not doing so all the time but no matter what you're the only thing on my mind. Loving you is like an addiction, I need to feel your body heat your warmth and those lips telling me you love me back. Because loving you meant I would dance around and talk to myself of things I would say to you when we barely met. But loving you has being painful like my heart can't breathe loving you is like—like stabbing myself in the heart and twisting it. It feels that way because I choose to love you by my own will, I wanted to be in love. Maybe I have been romanticizing a love like ours and it's just a little bit different this time. Or maybe it's us being in love with the idea of being in love and not knowing how to truly express it. Maybe loving you will be the sweet death of me one day. Maybe this love will rob years of my prime days because I want you to stay so bad. I think that loving you is like a drug that's not good for me wanting more and more knowing I can't have it. Because loving you will always be a challenge. Just a couple of hours go by and I get frantic when I don't hear from you—maybe it's holding on to you when you are sleeping because I can't seem to let go. Maybe loving you is forgiving the acts that hurt me and swore I would never let a man do to me as a child. I think that loving you has been the best thing that has happened to me, but loving you has also been the greatest pain given to me. I hope one day loving you becomes easily dreamy again because loving you means asking you to trust me, promise me something impossible and asking you why you love me.
By Hisela Lopez8 years ago in Poets
The Feeling of Depression
The Feeling of Depression: I’ve severed all feeling to the ones I love and this wasn’t an act from above; I thought I could just shove everyone out, and get rid of the all the self doubt. In my head I am dead from all the dread I’ve led and the end result is I’ve coated my heart in lead. (I wish I was smart as TED and not as holy as Ned) but Isn’t this what I wanted? There must be a side of me that’s haunted. My reality is the outcome of my actions, it’s like my personality’s split into fractions and I’m left misguided by distractions. Who am I and why or Should I bother asking, we’re all gonna die? fuck man I need to cry I have no alibi cause my entire life is a lie. I hold on to my childhood memories because they’re the remedies to my treachery. When I’m a century, living as an elderly I want my pedigree to look back and be proud of me. I’m crazy, I’m lazy and every little thing phases me. The shear fear of looking myself in the mirror drags tears to the back of my ears. Maybe one day I’ll get my shit together until then I’m sporadic as the weather, I have no idea how to control what I feel and I deal with it in such a way that’s surreal, maybe I should pray and kneel before I start spinning out of control like a steel wheel. I’ve lost traction in my early years, but that doesn’t mean I have broken gears. My mind may be on the Frits and it wants to call it’s quits but I haven’t given up because I still have my wits.... Just don't give a shit.
By Steven Scroggie8 years ago in Poets
